


After the Key Party - At Home

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Sam Worthington and Ryan Kwanten [176]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 13:42:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14137203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Sam Worthington/Ryan Kwanten storyline in the BDSM RPS RPGCitadel.





	After the Key Party - At Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Sam Worthington/Ryan Kwanten storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG [Citadel](http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read).

"Clothes off, hands behind your head," Sam tells Ryan the moment they're in the door. "I'll be right back," he adds, running their bags up the stairs to the bedroom.

_Fuck_. Ryan is aching. From the Citadel restaurant through the car ride home, the chains have been tugging at his piercings with every slight movement, and they are driving him fucking insane with arousal. Trying to bite back his frustration he whips his clothing back off, tossing it carelessly aside and going to his knees right there on the hardwood floor by the stairs, his hands locked tightly together behind his head.

"Did I say to kneel?" Sam says, coming back down the stairs.

_Shit!_ Ryan stumbles back to his feet, something of his usual grace missing. But at least he manages to keep his hands in place. "I'm sorry, Sir."

Sam nods, tilting his head to one side, his gaze roaming over his boy's body. He wraps his fingers around Ryan's cock, careful of the chain attaching it to his nipples and strokes, slowly but firmly.

The stimulation is totally unnecessary. Ryan bites his lip and works to keep himself still. Fuck, though, he's dying to push into Sam's touch, to just wrap himself around his sir and rub against him until he comes.

Watching Ryan, the reactions flickering across his features, Sam strokes harder, twisting his hand around the head even though it twists the chain as well.

"Oh god." Ryan drops his head back, squeezing his eyes shut. He can't help it -- he rocks slightly on his feet, trying to move with Sam's motions. Pain spikes through him in jarring contrast to the pleasure, and he's having trouble holding back on his climax after so many hours on edge.

Switching tactics, Sam grasps Ryan's foreskin between his fingers and works it back and forth over the glans.

Ryan gasps, and his knees nearly buckle from under him. "Please, Sir," he begs, shuddering with sensation. So fucking sensitive he could cry. "Please let your boy come!"

Sam shakes his head. "No." Working Ryan's cock even harder for a moment before letting go.

And that's fucking enough to do it: tears well up in Ryan's eyes, one spilling over onto his cheek when he tries in frustration to blink them back. Christ. He doesn't know what Sam wants from him right now. But it's still really early in the day, and that fact is making him nervous.

"I'm not doing this to punish you," Sam says, giving Ryan a minute before he takes hold of his cock again, stroking every bit as roughly as before. "You've been a good boy. I just happen to feel like tormenting you, so you're not coming anytime soon. Which doesn't mean you shouldn't beg, because who knows, you _might_ be able to change my mind."

"Yes, Sir," Ryan whispers. Changing Sam's mind... well, it's not the easiest thing in the world. Particularly when he's in a sadistic mood. Ryan tugs at his hair with his fingers, trying to ground himself somehow. "Maybe... maybe I could offer you something."

"Yeah?" Sam grins, stilling for a second. "Like what?"

Well, shit. It is the obvious question. The trouble is, there's really nothing Ryan can offer that Sam couldn't just have for the ordering. Or for the asking, even. "Um..." God, Ryan's almost too turned on to think right now. "Steak and ice cream?"

Sam laughs. "Nice try," he says, switching back to Ryan's foreskin, working it over his crown and pressing closer. "I'd rather have you in tears."

"You've already got that," Ryan whispers. His arms are aching from holding them up. He winces as he feels a drop of precome dribble down. "Sir..." Damn it, he can't hold his orgasm at bay and be brilliant at the same time.

Sam takes pity on his boy and stops touching him. "You can put your hands down. _Now_ I want you on your knees and you're not to stand or walk unless you have permission."

"Thank you, Sir." Ryan drops to his knees immediately, nearly melting with gratitude. He lays his hands on his thighs, head bowed, waiting.

Christ. Ryan's so fucking gorgeous. "Follow me, boy," Sam orders, heading for the kitchen and the fridge where he grabs a beer and then into the living room where he settles on the couch, his legs stretched out, bare feet resting on the opposite end.

Ryan crawls obediently after him, and his cock sways heavily with every movement, pulling on the chains and lighting sparks over his skin. He kneels up by the couch, his body tense again with the effort of holding back, resisting the pull of orgasm.

"Shift a bit," Sam says when he drops his hand and finds he can't touch Ryan's cock. "If I can't stroke you, you're not where I want you."

"Yes, Sir." Ryan shuffles a bit to the side, a moan jerked from his lips when he pushes into Sam's hand. He shouldn't, god, he shouldn't torture himself like that. But he can't help it.

"That's better," Sam says, setting his beer on the ledge behind the couch. He picks up his book and idly strokes Ryan's cock, fingers tugging on his P.A. then shifting lower to squeeze his balls.

The book... that's a bad bad sign. Even in a lust-fogged moment like this one, Ryan can tell. But the knowledge doesn't keep him from whimpering and putting his hands behind his back, shifting forward into Sam's touch.

Grinning at the sounds he's pulling from Ryan, Sam wraps his hand around his boy's cock, working it roughly without a shred of mercy.

"Oh, god." Ryan swallows hard and gives himself up, rocking on his knees and fucking Sam's hand. "Please," he gasps, way too fucking close for sanity. "Oh fuck, Sir, please!"

And just as quickly as he began, Sam stops, putting his hand back on his book and turning the page.

Ryan slaps his hands down on the hardwood just in time to keep himself from pitching forward. " _Fuck_ ," he gasps, squeezing his eyes shut, still slowly rocking in time with the pulse of lust in his blood. "Oh, shit." He is not surprised. Not not not surprised, or so he tells himself; just because it's been a while since they've played this way doesn't mean he's forgotten that Sam has the potential for it. _Fuck_. Whimpering under his breath just a little, Ryan firms up his posture once more.

"Good boy," Sam murmurs, flipping another page, his words the only sign he's paid any attention to Ryan's reaction.

The minutes stretch out, and the soft hitch of Ryan's breathing is the only thing that breaks the silence. He stares at his sir in wary horror, trying to gauge what's coming, and laying wagers with himself as to just how long it will continue.

A chapter finished and Sam glances over at Ryan, dropping his hand once again to his boy's cock. He grasps it between two fingers, jerking steadily, his eyes locked on Ryan's face.

Ryan moans loudly, quickly trying to bite back the sound. But _god_. He bucks into Sam's strokes, his lust firing up to boiling point again in a moment.

Feeling that tell-tale throb, Sam lets go again, hand hovering, his eyes locked on Ryan's face, gauging every reaction.

Crying out, Ryan squeezes his eyes shut. Tears leak out and down his cheeks while he gasps for breath, every nerve in his body burning with need. "Please, Sir," he begs, so damn desperate. "Mercy."

"You say that like you think I know what it means," Sam teases, rubbing a finger over the already-wet slit, smearing precome around the crown.

Ryan shudders, his cock extra sensitive around his piercing already, leaving him nearly defenseless against Sam's teasing. "Sir," he says again, grinding his teeth together.

Sam grins, pulling back for a second before rubbing his finger over the slit again, this time pushing it through Ryan's piercing and giving it a tug.

Ryan's shout might be loud enough for the neighbors to hear. In an instant he's lost it all, every shred of self-control in tatters and flying away like ashes on the wind. He sobs openly, pleasure and pain melded inextricably inside him, but warring with incredible shame that he's not able to endure more for his sir.

His own cock giving a rough throb when Ryan's come starts to spatter the floor, Sam sits back and watches his boy through every last aftershock. Waiting.

Hunching his shoulders, Ryan curls in on himself, making his body as small a huddle as possible, his forehead pressed to the floor in absolute submission. "I'm sorry, Sir," he whispers, trying like fuck to control his tears while he speaks, so that it doesn't sound like he's whining. "Sir, your boy is so sorry for disobeying you."

"Good. He'd better be," Sam says, but there's no anger in his voice. "Clean up your mess, boy - with your mouth - and then bring me the cage from the playroom."

"Yes, Sir." Ryan lifts his head and begins to lick at the cooling stripes of come decorating the hardwood floor. He's still crying, but the tears are dying down, so that soon all that remains of them is his wet cheeks and a few damning sniffles. He kneels up, head still bowed. "May-- may your boy walk upstairs, Sir?"

"No," Sam says, turning his attention back to his book. "But he can walk down."

"Yes, Sir." Ryan crawls to the foot of the staircase, still sniffling. Crawling upstairs when he's not hard usually isn't too difficult, but right now he's still got those damn chains attached to his nipples and cock, and they make the simple movements into torturous ones. Down the hall and to the playroom - unlocked all the time right now, since they're home - and he finally stands up. He splashes cold water onto his face quickly, scrubbing his eyes, then fetches the dreaded cock cage.

"Sir," he says quietly once he's on his knees by the couch again, presenting the cage's pieces on his upturned hands.

Sam sits up and takes the cock cage from Ryan. He takes a deep breath and lets it out, watching his boy. "Part of me thinks it's really fucking hot you can't control yourself in the face of my teasing, but the other part's wondering if I've failed you by not making control an issue."

Ryan doesn't have a clue what to say to that, or even whether he's supposed to answer. Maybe Sam's just thinking aloud, and it's rhetorical. So he links his fingers at the small of his back and straightens his spine, but keeps his gaze on the floor. "Sir?"

"What do you think, boy?" Sam asks.

"I think... Sir, I think that if anyone is to blame, it's me," Ryan says hesitantly. "I don't think you're supposed to blame yourself because I can't perform the way you want me to." Because Ryan fucked up.

"That's not what I meant," Sam says, "but thank you." He reaches out, touching Ryan's cheek. "What I really want to know is what you think I should expect from you as your sir. Do you wish I was stricter?"

Ryan blinks, then stares up at his sir. And he flounders for some sort of answer that would make sense, that would make Sam nod and approve and consider, but Ryan can't even make sense of the question at the moment. "I'm sorry, Sir," he says after a long moment, trying to fight through the fog of headspace and failing. "I don't know."

Sam exhales softly then smiles and sets the cage aside, on the table beside the couch. "You think you can fit up here beside me?" he asks, picking up his book again.

"Yes, Sir." Ryan is still confused, mostly just from the effort of trying to realign the structure of their relationship while he's still under -- something like attempting advanced theoretical calculus while high on hash. But Sam's invitation is one he can comprehend, even right now. He lies down next to Sam on the oversized couch and curls around his sir, nuzzling into his chest and trying to stay out of the way of his reading.

"I love you," Sam says softly, kissing the top of Ryan's head. "And sometimes I just don't give a shit about punishing you, even when you disobey me. Mostly because I know I pushed you so fucking hard."

"Mmm." Ryan's not going to argue. He hears what Sam is saying, but more importantly, he hears Sam's voice, and he knows every tone and shade of that voice. And his sir truly isn't angry with him, which is what matters most to Ryan. "Thank you, Sir," he whispers, cuddling closer.

"Don't thank me too much," Sam says with a small smile, letting his fingers drop to press against the base of the plug. "I'm still planning on tormenting you all weekend."

There's a strange kind of comfort in hearing that. "Yes, Sir," Ryan whispers, smiling.

///

It's a good book but not great and it doesn't take more than another hour for Sam to finish it, idly running his hand over Ryan's hip and playing with the plug while he reads. "You still awake?" he murmurs, reaching over his head to gently drop the book to the table behind him.

"Dreamed about you fucking me," Ryan murmurs drowsily. He feels like he's been in a half-doze this whole time, drifting in and out of reality, but the reality was always just as erotically twisted as the dream. Moaning under his breath, he pushes back against Sam's hand so that the plug nudges a bit deeper. "Can't imagine why."

Sam laughs, fingers working their way under the base, rubbing around Ryan's hole. "Is that what you want? For me to add to what's already in here?"

"Mmm. Yes please, Sir," Ryan whispers, his muscles clamping down tight. "Please. You make me feel so good." It might be that Ryan has already blocked out the torment of just a few hours ago.

"Then get up," Sam says, already shifting up onto his knees. "I want you over the back of the couch."

"Yes, Sir," Ryan whispers, dazed enough with want that he's a beat slow in obeying. He kneels up, bracing himself over the back of the sofa and staring out at the sea.

Opening his jeans, Sam frees his cock. He eases the plug from Ryan's ass, setting it aside for after and lines up, pushing slowly in with a low groan, his lover's body already open and ready for him.

"Oh Christ," Ryan breathes, his body shuddering with sensation. He doesn't push back against Sam, not yet, but holds himself still to take more, take everything,

Watching as his cock disappears into Ryan's body, his balls coming to rest snug against his hole, Sam groans again, licking his lips before wrapping his hands around Ryan's hips and pushing that fraction of an inch deeper, making sure his boy has it all.

Ryan whimpers loudly, jerking away in reflex and coming up short against the sofa. Then he moans and slowly sinks back, beginning to rock himself against Sam, his sir's cock spearing into him again and again.

"Yeah, that's it," Sam urges, a hiss of breath underlining his approval. "Fucking take it." His hands gripping tighter, nails digging into skin, laying down bruises.

The feel of Sam's cock drilling into him has become so familiar to Ryan, to the point where he fucking _needs_ it, desperate for Sam to reclaim him every time. "Yes," he whispers, shutting his eyes on the spectacular view outside and focusing himself totally on his lover, his sir. "Own me."

Christ. Those words. They go straight to Sam's cock and he slides one hand under Ryan, gripping the chain joining his cock and nipples and _pulls_ on the next thrust.

Ryan shouts, then drags in an agonized breath. Sam has torn something this time, he's sure of it, the pain burning through him in waves from his piercings. But even if Ryan still had a safeword he couldn't use it now, close to outright sobbing as he is.

"I'm gonna fill you," Sam groans, driving in hard, again and again. "Gonna fill you so fucking full you won't be able to keep it all in."

"Please," Ryan gasps, Sam's rough velvet voice twisting him up in knots. He digs his fingers into the sofa back, trying to keep from collapsing. "Oh god, Sir, please!"

It feels incredible, like there's nothing in the world but this, them, nothing but his cock in Ryan's ass, joining them over and over. Both hands back on Ryan's hips, Sam struggles to hold on, hold out, wanting it to last, wanting to keep going forever, but he's too close and it's too good and there's just no fucking way. He comes with a shout, cock pulsing hotly inside his lover, flooding his hole with his seed. Again.

Ryan mewls, clamping down on his lover's cock, the hot rush searing him. He's exhausted, can't even think his way clear to begging. It hurts too much. He peels Sam's hands off his hips and wraps his lover's arms around himself, tipping his head back to rest on Sam's shoulder.

"I love you," Sam whispers fiercely, the words smeared against Ryan's throat. "So fucking much."

The tone of Sam's voice puts a dreamy smile on Ryan's face, making him think of all that time he feared he'd never hear those perfect words from his lover. "I know. I love you, too."

Sam smiles. "Know what I think I'd rather do than put that plug back inside you?"

Turning his head, Ryan angles to nuzzle Sam's throat, lips rubbing over rough stubble. "No, Sir. What?"

"Make use of that big fucking bathtub you got me," Sam says, finally unclipping the clamps from Ryan's nipple piercings. "If that appeals."

"Mmm." Ryan smiles again, vague relief registering as the chains come off. "I love you. Yes. Did I tell you I love you?"

"No, I don't think you did," Sam teases with a soft laugh, unfastening the clip from Ryan's P.A. as well. "There you go. Think you can run a bath for us?"

"Yes, Sir," Ryan whispers, and half-turns in the circle of Sam's arms so he can hug his lover without either of them falling off the couch. "Candles, wine, and Megadeth? Or just the Megadeth?"

Sam grins. "The first. I'll grab the wine."

Once he's got the bath filling with hot fragrant water, Ryan really does light a few big candles and turn on the stereo. "I went with Metallica instead," he says over his shoulder, slipping _Master of Puppets_ into the CD player and cueing up 'Orion.' It's an instrumental track; as far as Metallica goes, it's pretty romantic. "Hope that's all right." He turns to face his lover with a smile.

"It's perfect." Sam hands Ryan a wine glass, filling it and then his own, the bottle set on the floor, out of harm's way. " _You're_ perfect," he says with a grin, touching their glasses together. It might sound corny but he doesn't give a shit. He's never been fucking happier in his life than he is with Ryan.

"You're biased." Ryan grins and sips at his wine, then steps into the tub and sits down with a sigh of contentment.

"So?" Sam says, laughing as he settles at the other end of the tub. "Doesn't mean I'm not right."

Ryan sets his wine down on the bathtub's wide edge, stretching out his legs and pulling one of Sam's feet into his lap. "So, how did it feel?" he asks, rubbing soapy water over Sam's foot before beginning a slow massage. "Finally showing me off at the club like that, like you'd been planning for so long?" Piercings, chains, Ryan's tattooed hole on brazen display...

"It was brilliant," Sam says, groaning softly at Ryan's touch. "Even hotter than I thought it would be." He smiles. "What about on your end? How did you feel?"

"It was really amazing," Ryan admits, his voice quiet. "I felt so weird at first, just knowing that people were looking, staring... But at the same time I felt so humbled to be there at your feet, and so proud to be your boy, that then there wasn't any room left for me to be self-conscious." He slides his thumb along Sam's arch. "I was so fucking turned on, but at the same time in my head it was just so peaceful. Kind of how I feel sometimes when I'm doing yoga."

Sam smiles. "I loved it. I loved knowing everyone in there was watching you, envying me, that not a fucking one of them could touch you. That everything about it shouted you were fucking mine."

Ryan grins, thrilled to his marrow. "I love it when you get possessive on me." Sam's words just make him so damn hungry, even as they satisfy.

"I'm always possessive," Sam says. "Even when I'm sharing you."

"That is really awesome," Ryan agrees, lifting Sam's other foot into his lap. "Because then it's like, everything I do to someone else, or let them do to me, it's like it just makes me more _yours_ ," he says, trying to explain. "Because I know it's all happening with your permission, on your orders."

"Exactly," Sam nods, groaning with pleasure as Ryan starts on his other foot. "And the only reason they're getting to touch you _at all_ is because I said they could."

Ryan's smile turns smug. "Hypothetically, if I fooled around with someone else, who'd get the bigger beating, them or me?" It's kind of a mean question, once he hears himself ask it aloud. But it is totally hypothetical.

Sam's quiet for a long moment. It's never even fucking occurred to him that Ryan might cheat. "Would they know you're my boy?"

Stone still now, Ryan blinks. "You know what? Forget I asked that," he says, quickly shaking his head. "That was a really fucking stupid question." The things curiosity kills, damn.

"No, you asked so I'll tell you," Sam says, feeling almost sick to his stomach at the thought. "If you fucked around on me, I wouldn't beat either of you. I'd just pack my bags and be gone."

The answer makes Ryan cold to his bones despite the heat of the bath. "No," he says, shaking his head again. "No. It was a stupid fucking question." He scrambles up and moves to straddle Sam's thighs, water sloshing against the high sides of the tub. "You don't need to decide, because it'll never fucking happen, I swear," he whispers, completely horrified. He kisses Sam's cheeks, his chin, his lips, again and again. "I'm sorry."

Sam closes his eyes but his hands go to Ryan's hips, holding him in place, keeping him right there. He nods. He knows Ryan didn't mean it that way.

"I'm sorry," Ryan whispers again, repeating the words mindlessly between kisses. Then he locks his arms around Sam's neck and simply hugs him tight, needing to be as close as he can get.

"I'm sorry too," Sam whispers, wrapping his arms around Ryan and pulling him in tight. "I love you so much. I couldn't stand losing you."

"You won't. Not ever," Ryan promises. "I wasn't even thinking. I don't think like that, I swear, it was just a stupid random question." He needs Sam to know it's not a question he's spent time considering. "You're the center of my whole world, Sam."

"And you're mine," Sam says softly, finally opening his eyes again. He shakes his head at them both, managing a small smile and kisses Ryan gently on the mouth. "Let's get dried off and out of here," he says. "Maybe we can watch a couple of movies, order in some Chinese..." Anything to put this conversation as far out of his mind as possible.

"Are you asking me to cuddle?" Ryan teases, smiling and nearly melting with relief. "Sounds perfect."

Sam kisses Ryan again and then drains his wine glass while Ryan gets out and grabs their towels. He stands, pulls the drain on the tub and refills his glass. "You want me to top you up?" he asks, gesturing with the bottle.

"Yes, Sir," Ryan answers, holding his glass out and dripping on the bathmat. "Do you want spicy tonight?" he asks, mentally reviewing the delivery menu of their favorite local Chinese place.

Sam nods, refilling Ryan's glass as well. "Yeah. I'd like some crispy shredded beef and those dry-fried green beans they do." It's one of the few vegetable dishes he actually likes. "What do you want?" he asks, taking another sip from his glass and then starting to towel off.

"The Szechuan orange chicken," Ryan decides, rubbing a towel over his hair and then just leaning against the vanity to watch Sam. "Shrimp rolls. Extra rice. And fortune cookies so we can read them in bed." He knows what they're doing: focusing on mundane details like it'll somehow completely take their minds off the disasters of the last ten minutes. He's totally willing to go for it.

"Are we doing the whole thing in bed or on the couch?" Sam asks, smiling at Ryan.

"No, just the cookies in bed," Ryan assures his lover with a smile, and gives him a quick kiss. "And I'm only putting on pants to answer the door," he calls over his shoulder, already heading downstairs to order their food.

Sam laughs and finishes drying up, tossing their towels in the hamper and grabbing a pair of pajama pants from their dresser. He ties them loosely around his hips and follows Ryan downstairs, finding his lover on the phone, obviously on hold. He grins and presses close behind him, kissing along his shoulders.

Ryan sighs and wriggles just a little. "That feels good," he whispers, relaxing back against Sam for just an instant before jerking up straight again. "Yeah, hello? No, sorry, I wasn't talking to... I'd like to place a delivery order, please," he says, feeling his face flush hot.

Chuckling softly, Sam slides his hands over Ryan's chest and stomach, slowly moving lower...

"Um. Uh. Shredded beef? Yeah," Ryan says with a nod, suddenly having to struggle to focus. Of course. "Shrimp rolls. Orange..." he gasps. "Sorry. Um, orange chicken. Yeah, extra spicy."

"Don't forget the green beans," Sam murmurs, trailing his fingers over Ryan's cock.

"Oh, and green beans. The fried ones," Ryan says, giving in and rubbing his ass back against Sam.

"Get some chow mein too. We can have the leftovers tomorrow," Sam says, fitting his cock between Ryan's cheeks while he gently plays with his lover's P.A.

Ryan can feel the heat of his lover radiating through the soft cotton of his pajama bottoms, and he shuts his eyes with a moan. "Shit! Sorry. Sorry," he gasps, when the woman at the other end of the line asks him to repeat himself. He's fucking mortified now. "And some chow mein. Please," he manages, stiff with embarrassment.

Grinning, Sam drops to his knees behind Ryan and spreads his cheeks, licking at his hole.

Leaning to brace against the counter, Ryan sinks his teeth into his bottom lip to hold back the whimpers. "No, that's all," he says, and gives their phone number and address to the hostess, thankful that the restaurant has their credit card information on file and at least he doesn't have to challenge his brain to _that_ extent. "Sure, okay," he agrees, although he's really not sure what she just said, and he hangs up the second she stops talking. "God, Sir," he groans, finally able to relax into Sam's touch. "You're so fucking evil."

"And you wouldn't want me any other way, would you?" Sam teases, licking into Ryan, hands spreading him open wider so he can go as deep as possible.

Ryan shrugs, unable to honestly deny it. Hell, like he could deny his lover anything at such a moment. "Please," he whispers, working hard to hold himself still when he just wants to fuck back onto Sam's tongue. "Please. More."

More? Sam grins and pushes two fingers inside Ryan, working them deeper alongside his tongue.

Crying out, Ryan slaps his hands against the counter and pushes back. "Oh, god. Sir. Please," he begs, torn - as he is so often - about precisely what to plead for. "Please let your boy come, then fuck him!" There. That's his hardest decision sorted.

Sam nods, pulling back just long enough to tell Ryan, "Go ahead, boy. Come for me," before his tongue's back up his boy's ass, fucking him for all he's worth.

Ryan howls and stiffens in an instant, then every ounce of tension releases as he sprays hot over the cabinet doors. He gasps for breath, still shuddering with pleasure and mumbling, "Thank you. Oh god, thank you, Sir."

"You're welcome," Sam says with a grin, pushing to his feet, his pants down and his cock at Ryan's hole in an instant, sliding into him while he's still slick. Christ.

Again Ryan yells. Not because it hurts, not much anyway. But it's always a shock to be taken over so suddenly, so completely. He mewls and bears down on Sam's cock, wanting him deeper, deeper than is even possible.

"Good boy. That's it," Sam says, one hand on the back of Ryan's neck, pressing him down, hips thrusting rough and deep, his cock slammed into Ryan's hole again and again.

Oh fuck, that heavy hand on his neck -- it sinks Ryan in an instant. He whimpers softly and works to hold still, his cheek pressed against the cold countertop. "Yes," he whispers. "Please..."

Sam could demand Ryan use his words. Demand he tell him exactly what he's begging for. But he's pushed his boy hard enough for one day. So he drives in a dozen more times, teeth gritted with the force it takes to fuck his boy that hard, and comes, flooding his battered hole with his seed.

And god, that's exactly what Ryan wants: to feel his sir take him over so thoroughly, fucking him and then marking him as his own, a hot searing rush that Ryan feels to his core. "Thank you," he sobs, and he can't even remember when or why he started crying. "Sir. Thank you."

"Hey. It's okay," Sam says, pulling out and drawing Ryan into his arms, safe and warm and tight. "I love you," he whispers.

Ryan sniffles and tucks his face into the crook of Sam's shoulder. So what if he's clinging; Sam lets him. "I love you. Always."


End file.
